


So You Better Run

by Cryptoad



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Death, Animal Transformation, Bat Family, Coma, Friendship, Gen, Past Character Death, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptoad/pseuds/Cryptoad
Summary: Jason glanced down, a sick swoop of fear rushing inexplicably through him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. There, where his feet should have been, were paws, resting on a floor far closer to his face than it should have been.Or: Jason is transformed into a dog. Now he has to figure out how to transform back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Batman universe and characters, however, I've never really read the comics so I apologise in advance if this is a bit OOC.

Jason was woken by the sound of somebody clambering through his window. He kept his eyes shut, lapsing automatically into Batman-trained awareness, but whoever it was didn’t appear to be bothered about stealth, landing with a thud on the windowsill. Still, they’d managed to bypass his security systems. Which probably meant-

“Jason?”

“Dick.” Jason growled, snapping upright like a jack-in-the-box.

“Jay? Are you in here buddy? What happened to meeting us at the docks? You’ve been working on that case for months right? Oracle was worried-” The other vigilante managed to rattle off half a conversation before he’d even made it all the way through the window. Jason could see his shape still silhouetted against the grey tint of the outside world. 

“Dick,” Jason said again, trying to cut the man off before he launched into a full-blown rant. At least that explained how Dick had gotten past his security, but there was no reason for Oracle to be worried about him. He wasn’t meant to be meeting the others at the docks for another day. He’d only lain down for a quick nap.

At least he thought he had. Jason’s head hurt. In fact his whole body felt disjointed and out of shape, like he’d been pulled apart and put back together wrong. Dick was still prattling on about missing rendez-vous and creeping steadily closer to the bed with each word. A dog was barking so loudly nearby that it almost drowned out his voice.

“Shut up Dick!” 

Finally Dick stopped talking and turned to face Jason. There was an odd hesitant expression on his face and he glanced between Jason and the bed warily, his hands held up by his sides as if to show that he wasn’t a threat.

“Oh hey boy,” Dick said quietly and then his eyes slid away from Jason and back to the bed. “I didn’t know you had a dog Jay.”

Jason followed his gaze, confused, half expecting a dog to be there even though Jason knew that he didn’t have one. Suddenly his headache throbbed into an excruciating crescendo behind his eyes but Jason could see that it wasn’t a dog on his bed despite the bright white lights that suddenly burst across his vision. It was a body.

Dick was already beside the bed, bending over, still talking as though Jason was listening to him. Fear leapt up Jason’s throat and propelled him forward. There was an intruder in his bed and Dick was chatting away, looking for all the world as if it was Jason laying there rather than some random stranger.

“Get away from the bed,” Jason snarled, lunging automatically to put himself between Dick and the intruder. And why Jason was leaping in front of Golden boy like he was some sort of damsel in distress he didn’t know. The dog was barking again, loudly enough that Jason wasn’t sure if it wasn’t actually in the apartment with them, and Jason couldn’t think.

Dick staggered back with a surprised grunt and Jason scrambled up the bed, feeling weirdly like he had too many limbs and lamenting his lack of a gun, to loom over the intruder. 

“Woah,” Dick yelled and leapt after him just as he came to a surprised stop. Something heavy collided with Jason’s side and he went sprawling off the bed, landing with a painful thump on the floor a few feet away. Too shocked to move he could only stare up at the figure of Dick, crouched protectively over the body on the bed. His body.

The headache was still throbbing against his skull and maybe that was why Jason had seen his own face, pale and slack with unconsciousness, staring back at him from the pillow. He was dreaming. He was hallucinating. Someone had cloned him and somehow snuck past his security to leave the replica in his apartment. And now Dick was standing over the imposter staring at Jason as if he was the threat, one hand outstretched as if to ward him off.

“What the fuck?” Jason managed, only that damned dog drowned out the words, sounding as if it was growling right in Jason’s ear. Dick’s face tightened, mouth pulling into a straight black line above his chin.

“Calm down doggy,” he murmured inexplicably, before turning back to the not-Jason on the bed. “I just want to make sure he’s alright.”

Jason knew he should say something, should stop Dick from reaching out and shaking not-Jason’s shoulder, but his throat was too tight to speak. When the thing didn’t respond Dick bent closer and any second now it was going to spring upright and tear Dick to pieces but still Jason didn’t move and the thing stayed still as Dick pressed two fingers to the pulse in its neck.

“Jay?” Dick pulled his hand back, apparently satisfied, but his face was still tense and he pulled the things eyelids back, peering closely at its eyes as if searching for something. “You in there Jaybird?” 

Not-Jason didn’t respond. Dick shook it again. Jason clambered awkwardly onto his feet.

“Jason.” Dick was worried now, Jason could hear it in his voice. He slapped the thing’s cheek and Jason cringed, expecting it to react, but it just continued to lay there looking for all the world like a sleeping Jason despite decidedly not being him.

“Hey,” Jason tried but the dog chose that moment to bark over him again. Once he’d figured this crazy shit out Jason would really need to have a talk with his neighbours. Dick glanced at him anyway, his face pale in the dim light, one hand still clutching at not-Jason’s shoulder. His other hand reached up and pressed the comm that Jason knew was nestled in his ear.

“Yeah,” Dick said, completely ignoring Jason, “we have a situation here.” There was silence for a minute as Dick glanced back down at the body in the bed. “Hood’s in his apartment but he’s unresponsive. Heartbeat and breathing are normal but he’s unconscious and I can’t seem to get him to wake up.” 

That wasn’t right. Jason was standing right in front of him. Whatever was in the bed was worth calling in but the problem wasn’t with _Hood_. 

“Yeah and be careful, there’s a dog here and I’m not sure if it’s friendly.” 

A dog? Jason glanced around as if the mysterious dog would have suddenly appeared and that’s when he caught sight of it in his peripheral vision as he turned his head. A tail. Jason spun. A tail that seemed to be attached to his body. Jason glanced down, a sick swoop of fear rushing inexplicably through him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. There, where his feet should have been, were paws, resting on a floor far closer to his face than it should have been.

“What the fuck?” Jason yelped, except it was only the yelp that came out of his throat. Suddenly things started to make a little sense, and yet at the same time make no sense at all. The dog that had barked every time Jason tried to speak, Dick’s strange behaviour, even the body on the bed. 

There was a rushing in Jason’s ears, drowning out the sound of Dick speaking to whoever was on the other end of the comms. He staggered forward, moving awkwardly on his paws - paws - needing another look at the body on the bed. Two legs blocked his way and Jason looked up, up, up, feeling dizzy and nauseous until he reached Dick’s face, a pale blob in the dim light. 

“Hey buddy?” Dick’s voice seemed to come from very far away. A hand reached down towards him and Jason flinched, falling sideways, his headache bursting into painful darkness and sweeping him away.

*** 

When Jason woke again his head was pillowed against something warm and soft. The smell of chocolate chip cookies was heavy in the air, but when he took another breath he realised that there was a sharper, spicier smell emanating from his pillow. There was something faintly familiar about it but when Jason tried to chase the sensation it slipped away and his headache throbbed painfully back into life. Jason shifted. His body still felt disconcertingly unlike his own. 

“Good morning dog,” said a voice seemingly from right beside his ear. And Jason didn’t have to chase the sense of familiarity that that sound conjured up. His pillow was Damian Wayne.

Jason recoiled, dislodging the hand that had been rubbing absentmindedly through the fur on his back, and threw himself against the arm of the sofa with a snarl. No way had he been resting his head on demon-spawn’s lap or letting the little brat stroke him. Damian stared back at him, mild surprise on his face, and tutted.

“Tt, trust Todd to have a rabid dog,” he said dismissively.

“You’re just upset that it doesn’t like you,” sneered another voice and Jason turned to see his replacement perched on the windowsill.

On the Wayne Manor windowsill. Because Jason was in Wayne Manor. And apparently so were all the other bat-brats.

Damian shot some insult back at Replacement but Jason had already tuned them out. He had to get out of here before Batman turned up and the inevitable argument started. Why had Dick brought him here of all places? He had to get back to his safe-house.

Jason slid off of the sofa, landing with a thump on his front paws, his back paws following awkwardly a few seconds later. Oh yeah, that was why. Because apparently Jason was a dog now.

“Dami!” Dick’s voice cut through the argument and Jason’s swiftly returning panic and all three Robins turned to face him as he stepped through the door into the living room. He looked tired and pale in the weak sunlight filtering through the windows. 

Tim slipped off of the windowsill, stretching nonchalantly, and then said in a carefully casual voice, “what did Leslie say?”

Dick shrugged. Jason’s ears perked up. Leslie Thompkins was here? Maybe Bruce was hurt? It would explain why the Brady bunch were all here and Batman was nowhere to be seen.

“Nothing conclusive without more tests.” Dick rubbed a hand across his face. “Jason’s body seems fine - at least there’s no damage that we can see - but his brain activity is reading as basically non-existent.”

Of course - Bruce wasn’t injured - it was the Jason body-double they were discussing.

There was a scoff from behind Jason. “That’s not exactly unusual for Todd is it?” And Jason turned to snarl at Damian again over his shoulder for the insult. Dick shot both Damian and Jason a look.

“Get away from that dog Dami, I told you it’s not friendly.”

Damian didn’t move. Tim crossed his arms, looking pensive. Dick scowled at Jason.

“Maybe it’s something to do with the Lazarus pit?” said Tim into the silence, thankfully drawing Dick’s glare away from Jason. “It repaired his mind right? Maybe the effects have worn off now?”

Jason felt something cold slide down his spine and settle like a weight in his stomach. The Lazarus pit was not something he liked to remember, or think about, and the idea that it might have something to do with the Jason-shaped body was something he would like to think about even less. But Tim had to be wrong right? The Lazarus pit surely wasn’t behind Jason suddenly having four paws and a tail.

Dick made a face, clearly disliking the idea as much as Jason, but he didn’t rule it out. “Maybe,” he said instead, “let’s not jump to conclusions yet though.”

Tim said something in reply but Jason didn’t hear it. The cold dread he had felt at the mention of the pit had suddenly expanded in his chest. There was a rushing in his ears and for a moment Jason thought he saw a sickly flash of green. Someone was panting, heaving breaths that scraped in and out of his chest, and then there was a high whine, like an animal in pain.

“Hey,” someone said, sounding far away. Hands pressed in on him, holding him down, forcing him under the water. He thought he heard Talia, the Arabic lilt to her voice, speaking from the surface.

“It’s OK boy.” The hands kept pressing, moving over his head, his chest. “If Todd really is a vegetable I’ll take care of you. I’ll almost certainly do a better job.”

“Dami!”

Jason surfaced. Damian Wayne was kneeling beside him, stroking Jason’s head and chest with gentle hands, a soft expression that had certainly never been directed at Jason before on his face.

Jason growled automatically.

A hand closed around the scruff of his neck and hauled him off of his four new feet. Jason twisted, snarling, the instinct to protect himself feeling beyond his control. Whoever was holding on to him simply dragged him forward, ignoring his snapping jaws.

“Why did you bring this thing back here?” It was Bruce’s voice, stern and commanding as it was in most of Jason’s memories of the man. Jason was growling too loudly to hear Dick’s reply but he heard Damian’s sharp “Father!” before he was foisted unceremoniously out of the door.

He turned quickly, ready to barge his way back into the house despite the fact that moments earlier he had been desperate to leave, but the door closed with a sharp snap in his face. Obviously Bruce couldn’t know that it was Jason, but, despite everything, the rejection still, humiliatingly, stung.

“Bruce!” Jason yelled - barked - and he leapt up at the door, scrabbling desperately at the handle. But his paws slid uselessly off of the smooth surface.

“Fuck!”

Jason spun to face the vast expanse of the Wayne Manor driveway. Everything looked so much bigger from his new vantage point several feet closer to the ground.

“Fuck,” he said again, and again it came out as just a growl.

Everything seemed to suddenly crash down around Jason. In the cold damp of a Gotham autumn day, the grey gravel of Batman’s drive stretching before him, the enormity of his situation seemed to draw into sudden clarity. A lot of crazy shit had happened to Jason in his admittedly short life, but this, this was new. He was a dog. Four paws, a tail, two pointy ears. No ability to speak beyond animalistic barks and growls. Not to mention the fact that his body was currently lying in a bed in Wayne Manor and none of the bats seemed to realise what had happened.

And now he was out in the cold. He had to get back to his safe-house. He had to figure out what had happened to him.

*** 

Only three days later Jason was back at Wayne Manor. 

It had been impossible to get back into his safe-house. Not only was it several floors up, and behind several doors, but his security systems could not be disabled with his new clumsy paws and lack of fingers. Jason had slept in the cold for three nights running, not to mention the fact that he had been eating out of the garbage. Jason had been reminded forcefully of his formative years and it wasn’t exactly an experience he had been desperate to repeat. He hadn’t even been able to gather any useful information about who could have put him in this position. It was impossible to use any of his gadgets and the awkwardness of his new body had negated any of his athletic ability.

Loath as he was to admit it, Jason needed the bats’ help.

The Manor was quiet. Night was drawing in, and most likely Batman and his Robins were either gearing up for or already out on patrol. Jason had already done a lap of the building but the security was as tight as it had ever been. 

The old Jason might have been able to sneak in but in this new body his chances were slim at best.

Jason did another lap. His paws hurt, tender from the unforgiving Gotham concrete, and his stomach hurt, and god was he thirsty, and really he had felt far, far worse in his life but the sensations all felt different in this body, as if he hadn’t built up a pain tolerance yet,

Jason wound up back at the front door again. It seemed so much bigger - more intimidating - looking up at it now. Again Jason was reminded uncomfortably of being much younger, standing in front of the same front door and feeling just as awkward and intimidated as he did now.

Feeling rather sorry for himself, Jason slumped against the door. Rain fell in fat droplets from the grey sky and if he had been anywhere but Gotham Jason would have laughed at the irony. As it was Gotham seemed to be a constant reflection of Jason’s mood - grey and grim and miserable. A pitiful whine escaped him before he could stop it. He really was pathetic.

“Oh dear.” 

Behind him the door swung open, spilling light and heat across Jason’s damp fur. A familiar figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. Alfred.

Jason could have cried.

“You’d best come in young man,” Alfred said sternly, as if talking to an unruly child rather than a rather damp dog he had found on his porch step. “We’ll get you dry in no time.”

Jason creaked to his feet to follow Alfred into the manor. A threadbare towel was thrown across his shoulders and Jason automatically shifted beneath its weight, trying to shake it off. Alfred fixed him with a stern look and Jason let him drag it over his back, drying him off with brisk efficiency. It actually felt kind of nice, Jason thought, to have the butler’s warm hands on his shoulders, ruffling the fur on his head.

“There you are,” Alfred said, and suddenly the towel, and the hands, were gone. “Come with me and I’ll get you something to eat before the young master comes back.”

So Batman was on patrol. Jason let himself relax in the knowledge that it was only Alfred he had to face in this state and padded willingly after the old butler into the kitchen. Although at this height Jason realised he was uncomfortably close to Alfred’s behind. Maybe that was why Damian was so grumpy all the time.

He hung back as Alfred busied himself in the fridge, skulking in the doorway. There were so many new smells on the air, ones that he would never have been able to detect with a human nose, and it was overwhelming. The scent of eggs lingering from breakfast. The sharp sting of whatever cleaning agent Alfred had used to scrub the floor. The scent of fresh laundry and talcum powder that must have come from the butler himself. And then, stronger than any of those, the mouthwatering smell of chicken as Alfred emerged from the fridge, a china plate balanced expertly in one hand.

Jason’s stomach growled. He crept further into the room. After days of nothing but what he could scavenge from the trash Alfred’s chicken seemed the most desirable meal Jason could have ever eaten.

Alfred smiled, placing the plate on the floor with a delicate clink of china against tiles. As he straightened his hand reached out to scratch at Jason’s ears seemingly automatically. Jason let him.

The chicken was cold but it was moist and delicious and Jason practically inhaled it, licking the plate to a spotless shine once he had finished. Alfred smiled again, like an indulgent grandparent, and Jason let the old man brace himself against his shoulders as he bent to retrieve the plate.

“Come on then,” Alfred said once he had straightened. “We can’t let a friend of Jason’s sleep out in the cold, can we?” 

Jason’s ears pricked at the mention of his name. There was a tightness to Alfred’s face and despite his smile he looked sad. Obviously Jason’s body was still as brain dead as it had been a few days ago. Jason didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

He followed Alfred obediently into the living room before the butler disappeared, reappearing moments later with a pillow and one of Jason’s old blankets. Jason’s chest felt suddenly tight when he saw it.

“You can lie down here for now,” said the butler as if he knew Jason could understand him. He lay the blanket and the pillow down in one of the corners of the room. There were so many things Jason needed to do: check on his body, find out how this had happened to him, and figure out a way to let the bats know who he really was. But the room was warm and the blanket looked soft and Jason was so tired. He could lie down for just a moment. Three days and he was no closer to finding any of those answers - one more night couldn’t hurt.

The blanket was soft beneath his paws. When he lay down it was soft beneath his body too. Rain drummed against the windows. Jason fell asleep.

*** 

“What is that dog doing here?”

The voice startled Jason back into painful awareness. Sunlight was streaming through the windows, which meant that Jason had slept through the whole night, and orange light streamed across the wooden floor. But a shadow fell across his makeshift bed.

“He was outside - in the rain.” Interjected Alfred’s mild voice. There was no judgement in the tone but Jason could sense Bruce’s anger retreating at the words. “He was in Jason’s apartment for a reason, I don’t think we should abandon him.”

The atmosphere in the room changed at the mention of his name. Jason could feel it like a physical thing in the air and he finally glanced up, all the way up, to try to read the expression on Bruce’s face. Something painful twisted in his chest. It had been a long time since Jason had been so close to Bruce and they hadn’t been arguing.

“Fine,” said Bruce tightly, “but onl-“

“The dog’s back.” 

Bruce spun and Jason’s head jerked to follow his gaze. Replacement stood in the doorway, a tablet clutched in one hand, looking at Jason curiously. 

“Damian will be pleased.”

“Tt.” And then Demon-spawn appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, as if summoned by his name, at Tim’s elbow. “I doubt I will be pleased by anything Drake says.”

Jason didn’t even know that dogs could get headaches but one was currently blossoming into life behind his eyes.

“The dog is back,” said Bruce dryly. Damian’s eyes found Jason behind Bruce’s bulk and he muscled his way into the room towards him. Jason clambered to his feet in preparation.

“Of course it’s back,” said Damian triumphantly. “I will be a much better owner than Todd ever was.”

Replacement rolled his eyes. Jason clamped down the desire to do the same.

“Damian,” Bruce warned.

Demon-spawn ignored them both. “This,” he crowed dramatically, “is Batdog! And he’s my dog now.”

Jason would have groaned if he could. There was no way he was lying down and accepting ownership from _Damian Wayne_ of all people. And no way was he ever going to respond to the name _Batdog_ either.

Replacement seemed to like the name just as little as Jason did.

“Batdog?” He sneered. “What sort of name is that?”

“Well it's a better name than you could ever come up with!” Damian snapped back.

Jason’s headache was throbbing now. Damian reached down towards him and Jason ducked vindictively.

“See, it still doesn’t like you.”

Damian launched something at Tim and Bruce stepped smoothly between them, catching Damian’s arm and fixing him with a hard look.

“That’s enough,” he said firmly. “The dog is only staying until Jason wakes up. Don’t get attached.

Damian muttered something under his breath, glaring at Tim beneath Bruce’s arm and Replacement stuck out his tongue childishly.

Jason felt the sting of irony at Bruce’s words. He sincerely hoped that the dog wouldn’t still be here when he eventually woke up as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a little angstier than I was intending.

Jason had spent the majority of the past week in the bedroom in which they had stashed his unresponsive body, hiding from Damian and the other bat-brats, and ostensibly watching over himself. Not that his body required much watching. Mostly it just lay there, looking pale and deathly still despite the constant rise and fall of its chest.

He did have a few visitors. Alfred came in daily to check on both dog-Jason and body-Jason and to dust and tidy, the way Jason imagined he had been dusting and tidying that room, and all the others, since long before Jason even existed. And that made something hurt in Jason’s chest, imagining the kindly old butler dusting that room even after Jason had suddenly and violently vacated it.

Sometimes Alfred would hesitate beside the bed. His hand would ghost over Jason’s shoulder, his face, his arm. Jason, watching intently, sometimes swore that the older man’s legendary stiff upper lip would tremble. He tried not to think about it.

Dick and Bruce had visited too. Jason had made himself scarce whenever they had come up to his room.

Not that he had spent the entire week sequestered in his room. He had been, however unsuccessfully, attempting to figure out how to get the others to realise that the stray they had taken in was actually Jason. The problem was that he couldn’t speak, or write, or seem to focus on a solution long enough to actually come up with the answer.

Most of his efforts seemed to end with a leash around his neck and a brisk walk (or drag in some cases) around the Wayne Estate in order to exercise some of the hyperactivity out of him. Jason had never been a particularly good communicator but it annoyed him to no end that he was around the bats so often and they hadn’t noticed at all that anything was wrong. Still he shouldn’t be surprised - he’d been shooting his way through Gotham as the Red Hood for an age before anyone had figured out who he really was. Maybe the bats weren’t as good detectives as they liked to think they were.

The walks, Jason was finding, he didn’t really mind that much.

***

“Batdog!” It was Damian, calling him for dinner as he had most nights that week. Jason hated that he reacted automatically to the name now, and that he was forced to come when Damian called if he wanted to eat.

“It’s Jason,” he snarled, without much heat, as he had every other night. Damian set the bowl on the floor and ruffled Jason’s pointy ears, unfazed by the snarl. Jason had given up trying to duck away from him.

The dog food was dry and tasteless in his mouth and Jason hated that he couldn’t eat normal food like a normal human but Alfred didn’t allow begging and there was no way Jason was pissing Alfred off.

Still, when Tim slunk into the kitchen to inhale some coffee and a slice of toast Jason couldn’t help but turn big, puppy-dog eyes at him. Bread. It felt like years since Jason had had a taste and just the smell of the warm toast was enough to make his mouth water.

Tim looked down at him from the counter on which he was perched and frowned. “Gross,” he said even though he was spraying crumbs across the kitchen. “Stop drooling all over the floor. And stop begging. Alfred will do his nut if he catches you.” But Tim’s voice was soft and slightly squeaky the way people’s voices only got when they were talking to something they thought was rather cute.

Tim stretched his leg out to toe Jason’s face away from his food. Jason bristled, jerking his head away from the offending limb. Still, the toast smelt amazing and there was a chance he could still get a piece if he was good. He sat, staring at Tim balefully from under fluffy eyebrows. He even lifted a paw for extra effect. When Tim realised who he was Jason would never live this down but Jason wasn’t thinking about that now. Jason was thinking about toast.

“Fine,” Tim said, defeated, and he glanced guiltily around the kitchen as if Alfred would materialise out of thin air and catch him as he threw Jason a mouthful of bread. Jason thought maybe that was actually entirely possible so he wolfed the bite down before anyone could take it off of him.

“Good boy,” Tim said quietly and he patted Jason’s head once he’d hopped down from the counter. The taste of the bread Tim had thrown him was still fresh in Jason’s mouth so he let him do it without complaint.

He would have to find a way to keep Replacement quiet about this once the truth came out. Jason wondered what he should threaten him with.

Tim scratched his neck, rubbed a hand down Jason’s ribs and back to rub his ears. Jason leant into him, resting his heavy body against Tim’s thin legs. It felt nice. And if Jason was going to have to threaten the kid into silence anyway he might as well make the most of it.

***

Jason was getting complacent. Just because he couldn’t figure out how to let the bats know what had happened didn’t mean he could stop trying. If he gave up now he would be spending the rest of his life trapped in this body, subject to Damian and Tim and Dick constantly trying to pet him, or drag him outside to play, or sneaking him bits of food when Alfred wasn’t looking. And actually...that sounded kind of nice when he put it like that. It sounded kind of peaceful. But there was a reason that wasn’t an option. Jason was human. And he needed to figure out how to get back to being human. And soon.

The entrance to the Batcave was the same as it had ever been. Jason had no trouble finding it. Now, with his enhanced senses, Jason could detect the stale smell of the cave, the animal stink of the bats, before he’d even opened the secret doorway. It was getting inside that was going to be a little harder. Still Jason managed it.

The batcave looked different from his new vantage point. The bats seemed louder. The whirring of the computers more present. The steps, as he thumped his way slowly down them, seemed steeper than they ever had before. Maybe that was because Jason was now heading down them head-first.

Jason had never been good with computers - that was Tim and Dick’s domain rather than his - but he could log-on. Check on what research batman had been able to do, maybe even leave a message. Jason couldn’t hold a pen but surely he could mash some keys on a computer, even with his clumsy paws.

He padded over to the computer. It seemed bigger than he had expected. The warm tang of metal and plastic flooded his nose as he snuffled around the base. He would have to get up on his hind legs to reach the keyboard. It felt odd, standing on two legs, leaning heavily on the desk with his front paws, despite the fact that he had been standing on two legs for almost all of his life previous to this.

Jason nosed at the mouse and the monitor flashed into life. Jason could sense the static from the screen in a way he never had before. But nothing else seemed to make sense. Jason stared at the screen, he could see the shapes on it, most of the colours, but the words were all squiggles - of course - Jason’s new dog eyes couldn’t read.

Jason snarled in frustration.

The keyboard made no sense either. Jason thought he probably should be able to type out a message from his memory of the keys but no matter how much Jason tried he couldn’t recall what order they went in. He smashed a paw down on the keyboard and the computer made an unhappy beeping noise.

“Ah!” There was a sharp noise, a clap, and Jason jerked away from the computer. Bruce was suddenly looming over him, a dark shadow against the already dim cave. “No,” he said firmly, “you’re not allowed down here.” 

Despite himself Jason cringed. A whine escaped. He could feel his tail sweeping guiltily from side-to-side.

Bruce sighed. The harsh line of his silhouette softened, just a little, before he pushed Jason gently to one side at sat at the desk Jason had just been leaning against. The computer flickered to life beneath Bruce’s practiced hands and Jason perked up. That’s what he had been trying unsuccessfully to achieve.

“I guess you can keep me company for a little,” Bruce said gently and Jason moved a little closer, trying to get a better look at the screen.

It was still an incomprehensible blur. Jason would have to find another way to get Bruce to figure it out.

***

Jason was sprawled across the sofa, listening to Damian and Tim talking quietly to each other, when there was a knock at the door. Bruce didn’t often get visitors to the manor - Jason knew that from the short time he had spent there - so he was automatically alert, ears pricked as if he could hear who it was from the living room. Neither Damian or Tim seemed concerned but Jason slid off of the sofa.

“Someone’s at the door,” he barked. And then when neither of them responded he barked again.

“Batty!” Said Tim sharply. “Stop barking, it’s just the doorbell.”

Jason ignored him. Anyone could be at the door, could come into the house, his house. He needed to be prepared for the intruder.

“Leave him alone Drake, he’s just being a good guard dog,” snapped Damian, never one to miss an opportunity to disagree with Tim.

Alfred opened the door and voices filtered through the hallway. Jason barked again, a warning, because he didn’t recognise the voice of the intruder.

And then Alfred led Leslie Thompkins into the room and Jason seemed to suddenly come back to himself. Guard dog. He had been barking at the door like some mindless dog protecting his territory. But he wasn’t a dog, he was Jason and Jason shouldn’t be barking at the door because humans definitely did not do that no matter how paranoid they were.

A strange shiver trembled down Jason’s back. He was human he reminded himself forcefully. He was still human.

“Bruce is already up there,” Alfred said. He sounded sad and Jason realised suddenly that Leslie was here for him - for his body.

“Thanks Alfred, I know the way,” Leslie replied and patted Alfred’s arm before turning to head up the stairs. Jason followed her, padding up the stairs a few steps behind her. It was his body after all.

Bruce and Dick were already in the room when Leslie slipped in, Jason a shadow at her heels. They stood either side of Jason’s bed looking oddly like a pair of bodyguards hulking over Jason’s prone form. Bruce’s face was unreadable, a carefully blank slate. Dick was worrying at his lip as if he might chew it right off.

“He’s getting worse,” Bruce said without preamble as soon as the door had closed behind them.

The same strange shiver trembled over Jason. His body didn’t look any different than it had yesterday, or the day before, still as pale and lifeless as it had always been. But not any more pale and lifeless, Jason thought hopefully.

Leslie pursed her lips, setting her bag down beside Dick’s feet to begin her examination.

“Worse in what way?” She asked, bending over Jason’s still form. Dick shuffled nervously and Jason moved to sit his heavy body on Dick’s feet. Just to stop him moving.

Dick’s fingers found Jason’s ear and stroked across it. If it felt nice Jason certainly wasn’t admitting it.

“His stats are dropping a little each day,” Bruce answered. His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

“Not anything too significant,” Dick interjected quickly, “but we did notice a change.” Jason thought he sounded hopeful, as if he thought Leslie might prove Bruce wrong. Jason hoped so too.

Instead Leslie straightened up, a grim look on her face, and all of Jason’s hope plummeted.

“His stats have definitely dropped - his pulse is weaker and he seems to be breathing less easily.” She looked sharply at Bruce. “You say this was a gradual thing rather than a sudden change?”

Bruce nodded, his eyes on Leslie and resolutely not on Jason, face as unreadable as if he were wearing the cowl. Leslie trailed her fingers across Jason’s brow.

“We really have no idea how Jason’s body is keeping itself alive at the moment. Most people with the level of brain activity that Jason is exhibiting require life support just to keep them breathing. If Jason’s stats keep dropping like this then it might be a signal that whatever is keeping Jason breathing and his heart beating could be failing.” She looked steadily at Bruce. “He could need to be put onto life support. Or he could die.”

Dick made a soft, pained noise above Jason, fingers twisting painfully in the fur below Jason’s ear. Bruce shut his eyes and for a moment Jason thought he might lose his composure but when he opened them again he was as stoic as ever. Jason himself felt oddly distant. To hear that he was dying like that… Jason should have felt sad, angry, terrified. But it all felt as if they were talking about someone else. Some other unfortunate bastard was dying on that bed. Jason found it hard to reconcile his weak human body with the fact that he felt so present and alive, with the feeling of Dick’s fingers trembling against his head and his feet beneath him.

Jason had died before and it hadn’t felt like this. It had been painful, terrifying. He had felt every inch of it.

“But we can keep him on life support right?” Dick’s voice was trembling. Jason had always thought Dick was too emotional, sappy even, but he had never heard him sound like this. As if he might start sobbing at any moment. “Keep him alive until we figure out what’s wrong with him?”

Leslie’s face was soft. “We won’t rule anything out yet. Jason might still get better by himself. Or he might suddenly get worse. I think it’s best to be prepared for the worst outcome.”

Dick made another small noise, as if he couldn’t help it. Jason leant back against him automatically and let out a little whine as if he couldn’t help it either. Dick’s fingers tightened painfully.

“No,” he snapped. “I’m not just going to stand by and let Jason die!” He paused, seemingly struggling with himself.

“Dick,” Bruce said into the painful silence. And did Jason hear a tremble in his voice? He wasn’t sure, it could easily be a glitch in Jason’s new dog-shaped ears.

“No,” Dick shook his head. “Not again.”

Then he was turning abruptly, dislodging a shocked Jason from his position on his feet, and storming out of the room. Part of Jason wanted to go after him. A compulsion so strong that Jason wasn’t even sure if it was coming from himself was telling him to follow, to make sure Dick was OK. But Bruce and Leslie were still standing beside the bed and Jason wanted to know what would happen next.

So Jason stayed.

“I’m sorry Bruce,” said Leslie so softly that even Jason’s enhanced hearing struggled to pick it up.

“It’s not your fault Leslie,” Bruce said just as softly. “I’ll keep you updated, let you know - let you know if anything changes.”

“Of course,” Leslie replied.

“We’ll figure out what’s wrong with him.”

There was so much conviction in Bruce’s voice that for a moment Jason believed him, believed that Bruce would be able to fix everything, the way he had believed when he was a little kid. All Bruce had to do was snap his fingers and Jason would be back in his body and everything that had happened between them would no longer exist.

But that wouldn’t happen. Bruce was only human after all. Jason was painfully aware of that fact.

“I’m sure you will Bruce.” Leslie sounded sincere and Jason was grateful for that fact at least. She picked up her bag and left, casting one last sympathetic look over her shoulder as she did, and suddenly it was just Jason and Bruce and Jason’s body alone in his old room.

Bruce sat down heavily in the desk chair that had been pulled up beside the bed.

A shudder trembled through Bruce’s whole body and suddenly he slumped forward across the bed, across Jason’s chest. Alarm shot through Jason - was Bruce hurt? - and he leapt to his feet before he’d even thought about the action.

“Jason.” Jason started forward automatically at the sound of his name before realising that Bruce wasn’t actually talking to him. There was a long silence and then, so quiet Jason almost missed it, a sob. Something hot and uncomfortable stirred in his stomach. Bruce was crying,

“Jason, Jay.” A heavy hand smoothed through his body’s hair and Bruce’s other hand slid into its limp fingers and squeezed gently. For a moment Jason closed his eyes and imagined he could feel the reassuring pressure against his palm, but there was only cold wood beneath his feet. “I can’t - Please Jay, please wake up - I can’t - I can’t do this again.” Bruce’s voice cracked on the last word and then he fell silent, his head pressed against Jason’s chest, as if he was listening to his heart beat.

Jason had never heard Bruce sound like that, certainly not in relation to him. For a moment Jason saw so clearly that destroyed warehouse in Ethiopia, and Bruce - his father - standing in the ruins over Jason’s body, that his chest ached. Without meaning too Jason realised he had crept forward, until he was close enough to touch the figure slumped over the bed and, feeling as though he were very far away from either of his bodies, he leant his chin gently against Bruce’s knee.

Another long moment passed and then a trembling hand smoothed over Jason’s head. Fingers trailed over the dome of his skull and came to rest on the scruff of his neck and dug in. Bruce’s other hand stayed pressed against Jason’s body’s fingers. Jason wouldn’t admit that either sensation felt nice but he leant into Bruce’s fingers regardless. It didn’t matter - Bruce had no idea who he was.

“Good boy,” Bruce said quietly, his words still muffled by Jason’s chest. The fingers on Jason’s neck scratched half-heartedly. “You’re a good boy.” Jason wasn’t entirely sure which Jason he was talking to.

***

Jason wasn’t sure how to feel. The sight of Bruce slumped across his body, sobbing, had stuck with him, seemed to haunt him. Jason was still angry at Bruce, always would be as long as the Joker was still alive, but that anger had always been coloured by the belief that Bruce hadn’t cared about Jason, dead or alive. The knowledge that, at some level, Bruce still cared made Jason feel uncomfortable and slightly queasy.

Dick had been gone by the time Jason had made his way back downstairs. Probably he was on his way back to Bludhaven, already ready to forget all about Jason and his impending death, the way Dick hadn’t even been on the planet the first time around.

Still, maybe that wasn’t entirely fair. Dick had seemed pretty upset when he had been talking to Leslie. Maybe he just needed some time away from Bruce. Jason understood that.

Damian and Tim were still in the living room. For some reason Jason had half expected them to have disappeared too, as if this were all some bad dream that was suddenly fading back into reality. Damian was upset although he was trying very hard to hide it: Jason could tell from the hard set of his shoulders and the faint crease between his eyebrows. Most likely Dick had stopped to say a short goodbye. Damian had always idolised the golden boy. It was kind of creepy sometimes.

“Not good?” Tim asked, his face was pinched and serious. He looked a little constipated.

For a moment Jason thought that Tim was talking to him and he had the odd sensation that if he looked down at himself he would see his actual body rather than his furry changeling, then Bruce’s voice came from behind him and the sensation vanished as soon as it had come.

“No,” Bruce said and his voice was calm and completely unlike he had sounded just moments earlier in Jason’s room. “Leslie believes we should prepare ourselves for the worst.”

Tim winced sympathetically. Jason himself felt a dull sense of apathy at the words.

“Grayson is gone,” Damian said suddenly, seemingly completely out of sync with the rest of the conversation. 

“Yes well technically Dick doesn’t actually live here.” Bruce didn’t seem too upset by Dick’s disappearance. It was hard to tell with Bruce.

“I thought he was going to stay,” Damian said forlornly. “I thought he wanted to figure out what has happened to Todd.” And then under his breath: “for some reason.”

A sudden, sour taste flooded Jason’s mouth. For some reason he had thought Grayson would stay too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to upload! I’ve had some problems with my internet recently.

Dick pulled into the cave, motorbike roaring into the silence, echoing around the cavernous space. Bruce didn’t even twitch. His eyes stayed resolutely glued to the screen, as if to prove something to himself, even as Jason levered himself to his feet to go and greet Dick. The smell of petrol cut through the stink of the bats and the constant stale smell of the cave air and as Jason approached Dick he could smell, beneath that and the rich leather of his riding suit, the distinct smell of Dick. And Jason didn’t even want to think about when he had started to recognise that.

“Hey Batty,” Dick said softly, voice still sounding grotesquely loud in the tense silence. He swung his leg over the bike so that Jason could lean his whole weight against him as he scrubbed a hand up and down his ribs. Jason let his tail thump against the other boy’s shins.

“How is Jason?” Dick was clearly talking to Bruce but his eyes were still fixed on Jason-dog and Jason lifted his face to him, whining out an answer that Dick wouldn’t understand. Bruce, his real conversation partner, remained stonily silent.

“You didn’t bury him whilst I was gone again did you?”

Jason had never heard that bitterness in Dick’s voice before. He pressed harder against Dick’s legs, snuffling at his palm as he swiped it over his head, wanting to get rid of the tension in the room. Jason could guess what Dick was talking about. His funeral. Bruce had not invited his golden boy and, as much as it surprised Jason to find out, Dick had obviously been upset by it. Jason didn’t realise he had cared.

“Dick,” Bruce said with the air of someone who was reliving an old argument. “Where have you been?” And Jason felt Dick tense even further at the quiet words.

“I’ve been looking for a way to help Jason.” The bitterness was still in his voice, sharp and biting. Jason whined again even though it wasn’t directed at him. “Unlike some people.”

Bruce stood abruptly and Jason startled, cringing back against Dick’s legs. His face was tight with anger, with hurt.

“What do you think I’ve been doing Dick?” His voice was carefully calm. Jason remembered the sound of it when he had been sobbing over Jason’s body.

“Being Batman,” Dick spat spitefully. “Protecting everybody but your own family.”

Bruce twitched like maybe he wanted to hit Dick. The fur on Jason’s back bristled. He could feel the tension in the air like a physical thing and it made his chest feel tight with the weight.

“How many times do we have to have this argument Dick?”

“He was my brother,” shouted Dick suddenly, voice echoing around the expanse of the cave. The bats chattered unhappily at being disturbed. Jason skittered away from the anger in Dick’s voice. “He is my brother and you didn’t even tell me he had died. Didn’t even invite me to the funeral!”

“Dick.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. This was the Bruce that Jason recognised. 

Anxiety clenched in his stomach. Intellectually Jason knew that Bruce and Dick fought - often in fact. They had been in the middle of a brutal fight when Jason had joined the bats, that was part of the reason why there had been a robin vacancy in the first place. But seeing them fight was another matter. In his head Bruce and Dick were always on the same side. When they fought it was almost worse than Bruce and Jason’s explosive arguments because he was never expecting it.

“You were with your team off-world. I couldn’t just drag you away from your mission.” Bruce was using his Batman voice. Dick was unmoved.

“It’s always the mission with you.” Dick wasn’t shouting anymore. He had gone so quiet that Jason could barely even hear him.

“Because it’s important. People die when I take a day off.”

“Jason could be dying right now!”

Jason didn’t want to listen to any more. The air was so heavy with tension it felt as though he might choke on it. His tail tucked firmly between his legs, Jason retreated out of the cave.

And ran headfirst into Damian’s legs.

Damian immediately crouched and threw his arms around Jason’s neck. Jason pushed against him and even he couldn’t tell if he was trying to push him away or press closer. Damian clung on regardless.

“I don’t like it when they fight either,” he mumbled into the scruff of Jason’s neck. He sounded very young. It was easy to forget that Damian was just a kid, a strange and violent kid, but a kid nonetheless. Jason felt guilt settle uncomfortably in his stomach.

“Tt-“ Damian scrubbed his face against Jason’s shoulder before standing. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

Batdog licked his hand in reply.

***

Dick had brought Zatanna to the house to look at Jason. “There’s a possibility that this is some sort of spell.” He had told Bruce tightly and Bruce had nodded but not said anything and when Jason had caught a look at Dick’s face his jaw had been clenched so tightly that Jason wasn’t sure he would actually be able to open it again.

Now Zatanna was crouched in front of Batdog, ruffling his ears, Dick standing behind her holding a bag full of witchy-looking items.

“When did you get a dog?” She asked conversationally. Batdog licked her hand and Dick reached around her to scratch at his head.

“It was in Jason’s apartment when I found him.” He looked sad. Batdog pushed his nose into his palm in an attempt to make him feel a little better. Dick responded by scratching his chin which made Batdog feel better at least.

Zatanna pursed her lips. “There might not be anything I can do for him,” she said quietly, not looking at Dick. She looked worried so Batdog licked her chin in what he hoped was a comforting manner. And then, coming to his senses, jerked away from her, feeling hugely embarrassed in a way he doubted any actual dog had ever felt.

Zatanna stood up smoothly, brushing dog hairs from her smart black trousers. Dick shrugged.

“I know,” he said, although he didn’t look particularly happy about it. “But we think this could have a magical cause, like a spell or something.” He shrugged again, a little helplessly.

“It can’t hurt for you to take a look.”

“Ok,” Zatanna said, taking her bag back from Dick, “lead the way.”

Jason followed them up the stairs but when they reached the door of his room Dick turned and blocked his way, pushing gently against his side to shoo him down the hall.

“Wait Dick.” Zatanna was looking intently at dog-Jason. He shifted, feeling irrationally embarrassed beneath her gaze. She peered through the doorway at the motionless Jason on the bed and then back at the dog at Dick’s feet. She bit her lip. “I think we should let him come in.”

Dick straightened and shrugged, unconcerned. Jason shot him a triumphant look as he pushed past him into the room but the expression didn’t quite make it onto the weird new features of his face.

Zatanna had stopped at the side of Jason’s bed. Dick hovered near the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking awkward. Zatanna bent over Jason’s head. Dog-Jason couldn’t really see what she was doing from where he was sitting near her feet but it seemed for a minute as though she was about to kiss him before she turned to pull some objects out of her bag. From Jason’s angle they looked a little like tiny crystal balls. She fanned them out around his body’s head like a halo before casting a critical eye along his entire frame.

“This should detect if there’s some magic involved.”

Silence. Jason could sense the tension coming from where Dick was standing but he ignored it, pushing himself up onto his hind legs so he could rest his paws on the bed and see what was happening. Zatanna glanced at him curiously but didn’t push him back down. Then she glanced back at Dick.

“I’m going to start now.”

Her hands came down on his chest and her eyes closed. There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Zatanna began to chant.

For a wild moment Jason panicked: whatever Zatanna was saying he couldn’t understand it. Were his ears failing him like his eyes were? Was he suddenly incapable of understanding human speech? Through the fog of panic he could see that the crystals were glowing - a wide spectrum of colours that Jason didn’t understand. Suddenly his skin tightened, tingling along his whole body like electricity. At first it simply trembled across his body like a sudden chill and then the sensation sharpened into pain, a thousand needles pricking across his chest, his back, his stomach. With a yelp he fell back from the bed. The crystals glowed so brightly that they burned Jason’s eyes. Dick started forward, looking concerned and Zatanna spun towards him, breaking off mid-chant. 

“What happened?” Asked Dick, crouching beside Batdog and resting a soothing hand on his neck. So Jason could still understand human speech at least and as soon as Zatanna had stopped chanting the pain had receded as quickly as it had come.

Zatanna hovered between the bed and Jason. She looked concerned and confused, biting her lip, eyebrows furrowed above suspicious eyes.

“The dog was in Jason’s room?” She asked slowly. Dick nodded, looking confused, and his hand faltered on Jason’s neck. “Did you ever see it before - before you found Jason?”

“No,” Dick stood slowly, eyes flickering between Zatanna, Jason’s body, and Batdog. “Do you think this has something to do with Batdog?”

For a long moment Zatanna didn’t answer. Then she spoke, her eyes on Jason’s body in the bed.

“I can’t tell,” she said quietly. “There’s definitely magic involved but - but there’s something strange about it. I don’t recognise the spell or the signature.” 

She crouched in front of Batdog. He whined beneath the intensity of her stare.

“The dog is involved somehow but I can’t-“ she paused and her mouth twisted in obvious frustration. “I can’t figure out how.”

_It’s me!_ Jason wanted to shout. _I’m here in this body!_ Zatanna was so close, and yet there was still no way to tell her, to tell them.

“We’ll figure it out,” Dick said, placatingly, whether for himself or for Zatanna Jason couldn’t tell. “We’ll get him back.”

***

“It has to be him,” Tim said from his perch near the computer. He was dressed in his Red Robin outfit, domino mask concealing his eyes and expression.

“Let’s not be hasty,” Batman countered. It had been almost a week since Zatanna had confirmed the presence of magic around Jason’s body.

“It’s hardly hasty,” snapped Dick. They were all wearing their alternate personas. Watching them in their costumes and dominos Jason felt the absence of his own mask, and his trademark red helmet, keenly. Without them his face felt bare and exposed - despite the fact that it was not actually his face. “Zatanna said-“

“Zatanna said magic was involved. That doesn’t mean that The Mage is behind this.”

“Our recon suggests that he is,” interjected Tim calmly. “He has a connection to Jason.”

Did he? Jason wasn’t even sure who they were talking about. He couldn’t go on patrols anymore and he had missed most of their investigation. He didn’t remember associating with anyone with a name as stupid as The Mage but his memory of the days before his strange new life was vague at best. Thinking about them made his head hurt.

“A tenuous one,” said Batman dismissively but Jason could tell that he was hopeful.

“He’s been causing trouble anyway.” Dick’s expression was sour, even beneath his domino mask. “We might as well bring him in.”

***

They brought him in, slung him into Arkham with all the other villains that, in Jason’s not so humble opinion, probably deserved a bullet to the face instead. No one had been able to get any answers out of him. The tension in the house was unbearable and in the face of it Dick and Bruce’s relationship seemed to get, curiously, less and less strained.

The health of Jason’s body, in comparison, was getting worse and worse. Batdog didn’t like to go near it. It smelt bad and made his owners sad. But Dick and Bruce seemed to be spending more and more time in there.

“Don’t worry,” Dick had said one day as he and Bruce had hovered around the doorway to the room. “We’ll get him to talk.”

Bruce hadn’t answered.

***

They were at the park. It wasn’t a park that Jason frequented often, although he had vague memories of Bruce taking him there once or twice. But that felt like three life-times ago now. Jason couldn’t remember if he had enjoyed it back then.

He was enjoying it enough now.

Damian threw the stick again and Jason raced after it. He had resisted at first, camping out at Dick’s feet and resolutely refusing to give Damian the time of day. It had seemed important to him at the time not to chase the stick but now, carrying it back to the three figures at the edge of the grass, he couldn’t remember why.

Damian crouched down, hand stretched out towards him, and said, “drop it,” in a commanding voice. Jason dropped the stick into his waiting palm and Damian ruffled his ears appreciatively. “Good boy Batdog!”

Batdog barked happily, eyes trained on the stick, waiting for Damian to throw it again.

“Alright,” said Dick, standing from his position reclining on the lawn and stretching like a cat, “I think it’s time to head back.” 

The light was fading, the everpresent Gotham clouds painted a dark, burnished orange with the setting sun.

“Finally.” Tim had been sitting cross-legged on the grass, head bent over his tablet, for most of the short outing. When he looked up Jason noted the pale, almost translucent quality of his skin. Did the kid ever get outside in the daytime?

“I don’t know why you forced me to come in the first place.”

Dick laughed and reached out to ruffle Tim’s hair. “It’s family bonding,” he said cheerfully. Both Tim and Damian looked faintly distressed at the thought. 

“Come on Batdog,” Dick called, seemingly not noticing either boy’s expression, and Batdog trotted obediently over to him. “Time to head home.”

***

Jason had regained enough sense by the time they had arrived back at the manor to feel both intensely embarrassed and deeply uncomfortable about the fact that he had been chasing after the stick Damian had been throwing him and trotting obediently after Dick. It was easy now to see that he shouldn’t have been chasing it because he was human and humans didn’t chase sticks despite how much fun it might seem at the time. Jason wasn’t sure how he could have forgotten that and that fact made him feel faintly sick.

He tugged against the leash unhappily and when Dick bent to let him free he snarled vindictively. It didn’t really make him feel much better.

He felt even worse when they stepped into the manor and were met immediately by a grim looking Alfred.

“What’s up A?” Dick who had just seconds before been laughing about something stupid with Tim was suddenly tense, concerned.

“Master Jason took a sudden turn whilst you were out,” Alfred said quietly and Jason could feel the sudden change in the room. Jason felt something cold in his own chest. Had he noticed anything? He wasn’t sure.

“Is he-“

“Is Todd finally dead?” Damian interrupted. And then into the silence: “Again?”

“No,” Alfred said, a disapproving tilt to his mouth. “Master Jason is thankfully stable now. Leslie Thompkins is with him.” 

“He’s getting worse,” said Dick unhappily. Batdog pressed against his legs with a whine and Dick ducked to stroke him.

“I’m afraid so Master Richard,” said Alfred. “I’m afraid so.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert *suprise bitch* meme here.
> 
> I’m so sorry this has taken me so long to post. Honestly I hated this chapter and I didn’t know how to improve it so I just never posted it. I still don’t particularly like it but if I don’t post it now I never will.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Batdog was lying across Dick’s lap when the front door opened unexpectedly. No doorbell, no knock. Just the door opening and then the sound of something wheeling across the hard wooden floor. Batdog sat up, ears pricked, and barked out a warning. Dick stood up slowly, seemingly unconcerned, and he ruffled Batdog’s ears as he headed towards the sound.

Something had changed in the house recently. Dick was sad. Bruce was sad. And they were both angry. Tension hung in the air like a physical weight and the two were constantly snapping and snarling at each other, raising their voices so loudly that it hurt Batdog’s ears. They would disappear into one of the rooms upstairs and shut Batdog out. Not that he wanted to follow them: the room smelt bad. It smelt like rot and death.

Batdog followed Dick off of the sofa, curling around his feet as he entered the hallway incase the intruder was dangerous. A woman sat in the entrance and she smiled when she saw Dick, eyes tracking down to Batdog curiously before Dick bent down to hug her and cut off her view. The chair she sat in smelt unpleasantly of metal and rubber but when she held out her hand for Batdog to sniff he was surprised to find that she smelt pleasant and vaguely familiar. He sniffed her again before smearing his tongue across her palm to catch a taste of her. Definitely familiar. He wasn’t entirely sure where he had smelled her before.

Dick said something to the woman before turning back towards the lounge. When the woman went to follow she didn’t get out of her chair but instead wheeled the whole thing along with her. Batdog startled at movement but Dick didn’t seem concerned so he followed cautiously a few steps behind and graciously chose not to bark at her.

When Dick sat back down on the sofa Batdog didn’t clamber up beside him again. He wound himself around the woman, snuffling at the wheels of her chair and her legs. They smelt of the outdoors - the sharp tang of mud and the cool, slick smell of rain. She reached out to him and her fingers trailed over the dome of his head. Boldly, Batdog propped his chin against her knee and, in return, she crooked a finger behind his ear.

She was talking to Dick in a low voice. Batdog could feel the delicate rumble of it through her whole body, vibrating minutely against his chin. Dick was leaning forward, elbows resting lightly on his knees, his hands dangling just short of the fur on Batdog’s back. He looked sad. The woman, when Batdog glanced up at her from his perch on her knee, looked sad as well. 

He heard Bruce’s name. He heard the name Jason. He whined.

The woman started crying quietly, small, hiccuping sobs, and one of her hands was wound almost painfully tight in the fur at his neck. Batdog thought Dick might cry too. His face was scrunched up, mouth a tight, black line and his hands were shaking. But they were firm when he reached out and closed his fingers around the woman’s where they rested on her thigh, his eyes dry. Batdog lapped at their entwined hands. Tasted salt. The woman gave a shaky little laugh.

The door opening startled Batdog, but when he turned sharply, ears pricked, it was just Tim in the doorway. He looked surprised and he shuffled uncertainly as if he wasn’t sure if he should leave or not. 

Both Dick and the woman had turned towards the intrusion as well and she smiled, lifting her hand from Batdog’s neck to reach invitingly towards Tim. Batdog wagged his tail invitingly as well but Tim ignored him, shuffling across the room until he could fold himself into her hug. Dick said something and the woman laughed, jostling Tim as she did so. Tim’s hand crept out to rest against Batdog’s head and he snuffled at his fingers with a wet nose. Tim laughed and the woman pressed her head firmly against the side of his face.

Batdog decided he liked her.

 

***

 

The park was nearly empty, only a few people dotted here and there, almost too far away for Batdog to see them properly. Maybe that was why he felt like this, like electricity was running beneath his skin, the way he sometimes felt if a storm was coming. Damian made a high noise of encouragement and tossed a stick across the green expanse. Normally Batdog would have chased after it without a thought but today he stayed put at his owner’s feet, ears pricked, nose twitching suspiciously. Something was wrong.

The boys were talking to each other, Tim low but fast, Damian higher and louder, and maybe that was why Batdog nearly missed the sound of rustling leaves and heavy footsteps. He spun towards it, ears pricked to catch more of the sound. Both boys went tense. Batdog whuffed out a warning growl.

The three unfamiliar humans emerging from the bushes ignored him completely. Damian and Tim had spun to face them too, both tense, not scared but ready for the threat. Batdog pushed himself in front of them, hackles raised, lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.

The three men fanned out around them. One of them growled, waving something grey at Batdog’s pack. Batdog felt recognition spark at the back of his brain. Danger, it screamed.

Tim was speaking calmly but his hand was tight around Damian’s wrist. The younger boy was trying to shake him off but Tim would not be dislodged. His other hand was stretched out placatingly. It didn’t seem to be working, the leader snarled, stepping forward, stabbing his arm towards Tim’s chest and cutting him off. Batdog and Damian tensed simultaneously but Tim was still holding Damian by the arm with surprising strength. Through the snarling Batdog heard Bruce’s name and Damian snarled back, sounding angrier than Batdog had ever heard him.

It happened in seconds. There was a bang so loud that it made Batdog’s head spin. Behind him Damian made a startled sound but Batdog’s ears were ringing so loudly that he could hardly hear it. The electric feeling of danger had reached critical levels.

Batdog snarled. The man brought his arm up again and he leaped without thinking, teeth finding purchase on the man’s leather jacket and sinking in. The material parted beneath his jaws and Batdog tasted blood on his tongue. The man howled.

Fists slammed into his side, his head, as the man tried to pry him off. The grey thing flew from his hand to land with a thump on the grass. Somebody lunged forward towards it and there was a scuffle. Batdog couldn’t tell what was happening with the smell of leather and blood in his nose, the yells of the man and his own deep growls in his ears. The man fell backwards and Batdog landed heavily on his chest, bracing his paws against him and wrenching his head to the side, dragging the man’s arm with him. His victim yelled again, grabbed at Batdog’s face with desperate fingers, and then suddenly fell limp, head lolling back against the grass and arm going slack in the vice of Batdog’s mouth.

“Batdog!” Tim’s voice, then nimble hands prying open his jaws, pressing him backwards. Tim kept speaking in low soothing tones, rubbing his hands over Batdog’s head and down his flank. Batdog sniffed at him, checking for blood, but could only smell the crimson liquid painted across his own muzzle. Damian was crouched over one of their attackers, scrutinising their face, one foot against their chest. The people in the distance were still too far away to see what had happened. And anyway, this was Gotham. It was better to mind your own business here.

“Good boy,” Tim said, scratching at Batdog’s chin although his eyes were on Damian. “Good boy Batdog.”

 

***

 

Bruce strode across the grass towards them. Batdog’s muscles twitched with the automatic desire to go and greet him, but there was another man keeping pace beside him and Batdog stayed crouched at Tim’s feet instead.

When Bruce reached them he barely spared Batdog a glance, wrapping one arm around Tim’s thin shoulders, his other hand resting on the back of Damian’s neck like a mother dog holding her pup by the scruff. A restraint. He looked relieved but there was an angry tightness around the corner of his eyes and mouth. Both boys were talking at once, voices tumbling over one another and tangling together until the man beside Bruce stepped forward and they both fell silent.

Batdog shifted onto his feet. The three men had already been rounded up and bundled into cars and Bruce didn’t seem concerned about this new man’s presence but Batdog sniffed at him suspiciously regardless. The scent was vaguely familiar - he smelt a little like the woman who had visited Dick earlier and a little like something that Batdog thought he should remember but couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t a bad smell and Batdog relaxed a little. When the man spoke the thick collection of whiskers above his mouth bristled.

Finally Bruce bent down towards Batdog. He caught Batdog’s chin in one big hand, smoothed the other over Batdog’s head and looked critically over him. Eventually he smiled.

“Good boy Batty,” he said, echoing Tim’s earlier words and Batdog felt a warm glow at the praise. Bruce rubbed at Batdog’s ear and the dog settled himself across his master’s feet. He was glad that he was here. Now that Bruce had arrived Batdog didn’t have to be on guard anymore.

Despite that, Batdog’s skin still prickled as he sensed people congregating at the edge of his vision. There was a low hum of activity and voices. Bruce had obviously noticed them too.

He stood, dislodging Batdog from his seat on his feet, and stepped smartly towards the boys. His hands closed around their shoulders, his body a protective block against the gathering crowd. The boys settled under his grip like disobedient puppies. 

The other man’s whiskers twitched as he exchanged words with Bruce. His gaze flickered over the gathering crowd, then back to Bruce’s face. Bruce shifted and Batdog came to heel. He was a good dog after all.

***

Only Bruce walked him for a while after that. But Batdog didn’t mind - he liked walking with Bruce. There was something calm, peaceful, about his master when he could escape the house. When he was free from the bad smelling room and the stale cave with the pesky bats and the shouting.

Bruce bent to let Batdog off the leash, pressing a warm hand against his side in reward for keeping still. Batdog glanced up at him, trying to judge his mood. Most of the time he was happy to zoom off and leave Bruce behind. Other times he preferred to stick close to him. 

As Bruce straightened, he rubbed a hand tiredly across his shoulder and winced. It was only for a moment but Batdog noticed it. It was one of those days then.

They had been happening more frequently recently - days when Bruce seemed tired and in pain, when Batdog would circle around his feet as he walked, stealing quick sniffs before trotting obediently back like a homing pigeon. Then, when they reached the bench, he would sit quietly and keep watch as Bruce closed his eyes and let himself relax a little bit.

Bruce seemed particularly upset today. When he sat heavily down on the bench, Batdog clambered up next to him. It was awkward. The bench was small and the wood was hard and uncomfortable beneath him. Bruce seemed startled by this sudden change in regime but he lifted his arm so Batdog could struggle into position across his lap.

Bruce said something quietly in a soft, gentle voice and his fingers smoothed over Batdog’s ear. Batdog huffed out a sigh, leaning in to the touch. When he breathed in he could taste salt on the air. Something wet dripped sporadically onto the thick fur of Batdog’s back.

 

***

 

Batdog didn’t feel good. His stomach hurt. His skin felt hot and tight, as if it were a few sizes too small and his teeth ached. He had wandered into the garden, hoping the cool evening air and a mouthful of fresh grass might settle his stomach, but his legs had suddenly gone weak and he had ended slumped beneath a tree, head spinning.

He had lain there for a long time before Damian had found him.

Damian was upset. Batdog could tell, even before the kid had gotten close enough to realise Batdog was there. Batdog tried to wag his tail, felt the grass shifting lazily beneath it, but Damian hadn’t noticed. The kid wiped angrily at his face, half-turned, eyes glazing right over where Batdog lay, then scowled. Batdog wagged his tail again and finally Damian seemed to notice him.

“Batdog?” He called and Batdog felt the urge to go to him shiver through his whole body. When he did nothing but twitch his tail, Damian hurried closer and fell to his knees beside him.

“Batdog?” He asked again, and ran a gentle hand down Batdog’s flank. Batdog whined quietly through his teeth and pressed his nose against Damian’s knee. 

Damian said something, worried now, and he lifted Batdog’s head so that he could rest it on Damian’s leg.

 _It’s ok,_ Batdog wanted to say, pressing his face against Damian’s thigh. Damian obviously wasn’t convinced. He was shouting now, looking around as if someone was going to appear right behind him. No one was coming. Batdog whined again.

Eventually Damian tried to lift him. His arms constricted painfully around Batdog’s ribs as he half-carried him across the grass. Batdog tried to wriggle out of his grasp, grumbling unhappily, but he was too weak to put any energy behind his attempts and Damian ignored him, still shouting in Batdog’s sensitive ear.

Finally Tim appeared, a thin shadow against the fading light. Even from his awkward angle Batdog could tell that he was upset too. His face was pale and drawn. Something had happened.

Tim was growling back at Damian, striding across the grass on long legs. Batdog wanted to ask what was wrong but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate, especially as Damian’s arms were still tight around his chest. Damian was shouting back, frantic, and Tim’s stride quickened, growling forgotten. When he reached them he put one hand on Damian’s shoulder and the other against the dome of Batdog’s head. Damian didn’t try to shake him off. Instead he sunk to the ground, as if the weight of Tim’s hand had forced him there, and Batdog sunk with him, flopping bonelessly across the boy’s lap.

Tim was on the floor beside them seconds later. He was talking rapidly to Damian, face inches from the younger boy’s, his hand clenched almost painfully in the fur of Batdog’s neck. Damian said something in return and they both turned simultaneously towards the house, drawn, pensive expressions on their faces. They looked very similar from Batdog’s angle, although he could never mistake Tim’s sharp, almost metallic smell for Damian’s richer, spicier scent.

He whined yet again as his stomach clenched painfully and they both turned back to him so quickly that he wasn’t sure they had ever looked away.

Damian said something, quiet, desperate, and Tim shook his head, worrying his lip between his teeth. Finally, Tim slipped his arms carefully around Batdog’s waist and then Batdog was unnervingly airborne, limp tail pressed against Tim’s chest, head lolling on Damian’s shoulder.

Together they hustled him across the grass. Batdog bumped along with them, clenching his teeth against the uneasy rolling of his stomach, until they finally reached the house.

They made it all the way to the lounge before Alfred appeared. They laid him down on the couch. Alfred was saying something very quickly. Tim had something small and grey in his hand, stabbing at it with nimble fingers.

Batdog closed his eyes and hoped the pain would go away soon.

 

***

 

Jason was dying. And not in the slowly wasting away whilst he forgot he ever used to walk on two legs sort of dying. No. This was the going into cardiac arrest whilst Bruce Wayne pumped furiously on his chest sort of dying. Tim was on the phone to Leslie Thompkins because there wouldn’t be an ambulance for Jason. Technically Jason was already dead. 

“Come on Jason, come on,” Bruce was muttering through gritted teeth. He bent to push air into Jason’s mouth and Jason felt as though his borrowed lungs were expanding as well beneath the pressure. As if suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

Dick was standing beside Bruce at Jason’s head. He was already crying even though Jason wasn’t quite dead - again - yet. Even though he had never cried over Jason whilst the boy was still alive. Under different circumstances Jason would have sneered at the show of emotion but currently he had more important things on his mind. Like the fact that he was dying.

Jason and Damian were crouched in the doorway like two mismatched gargoyles. The younger boy had his arms around Jason’s borrowed body which Jason allowed because otherwise he felt his heart might burst straight out of his chest. It was thumping out a staccato, uneven rhythm. He was under no illusion that once Bruce gave up on his desperate CPR, Jason’s dog body would die right along with his human one. 

“Tim,” Dick snapped, “how long?” His voice was remarkably calm despite the tears still gleaming on his cheeks. Tim shrugged helplessly.

Bruce swore and Damian actually flinched, arms tightening painfully around Jason’s chest. Time was running out, Jason could feel it in his bones, he was dying and he wasn’t sure what he could do about it.

Jason wanted to scream. He wanted to yell. He wanted to jump up onto the bed and force his failing heart to beat. He wanted to push Bruce’s shaking hands aside and face the inevitable. But most of all, Jason wanted to be back inside his body with such painful intensity that for a moment he was worried he might actually be dead.

No. Death didn’t feel like this. Jason was alive, and if he was alive he was fighting.

Suddenly, he jerked away from Damian, breaking the circle of his arms, and lunged towards his dying body. Dick made a startled sound, leaping to intercept him as Jason barrelled towards the bed.

“Dami,” he cried as Jason slid beneath his outstretched arm, “catch him!” But it was too late. Jason had sprung onto the bed, following that insatiable pull. Bruce jerked back in surprise and Jason pressed himself tight against his body’s chest, against the failing beat of his heart. He felt Bruce’s hands on him, two big, warm points of contact at his shoulder and his hip and then the world faded into a deep black nothingness and he could no longer feel at all.

***

Jason woke up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story, I was originally going to end this with chapter 4 and leave it ambiguous as to whether Jason survived or not. Then I decided that was too mean so I would write another chapter. Then I proceeded to completely forget that I had decided to write another chapter which is why I'm only posting this now.
> 
> I'm really sorry for how horrendously late this is. Thank you to everyone who has kudosed and commented on this!
> 
> Never let me write another multi-chapter fic again.
> 
> Also the animal death in this refers to Jason's dog body and is not graphic.

Jason woke up choking. Something heavy was draped across his chest. When he tried to gasp a breath his lungs screamed. Even the smallest movement seemed to shift them nauseatingly against each other. They were definitely broken. 

Jason couldn’t remember why.

Someone was shouting, hysterically, very close by. Hands were shifting the weight across his chest, sparking sharp pain across his ribs. Jason tried to stop them, hands flailing. He tried to open his eyes but they didn’t seem to want to cooperate. More hands cupped the sides of his face and Jason tried to jerk away but his broken ribs, and the weight across his chest, and his uncooperative limbs kept him in situ.

“Jason?” A deep, quiet voice beside his ear. “Can you open your eyes, Jason?” And his eyes opened of their own accord, following the command seemingly without needing input from Jason’s brain. Bruce’s face loomed above him.

“Bruce?” He gasped. The expression on Bruce’s face threatened to choke him again. “What happened?”

He was surprised Bruce could hear him over Damian’s wailing. Perhaps he couldn’t - because he didn't answer his question, just stared intensely into Jason’s face as if Jason would disappear the moment he stopped looking at him.

“Batdog!” 

That was all the warning Jason got before Damian fell heavily against him, ignoring the strangled sound of pain that forced itself out of Jason’s mouth, and grabbing at the weight across his chest.

“Damian,” Bruce snapped, and his hands left Jason’s face in an attempt to pull Damian’s weight off of him.

“What did you do Todd?” Damian cried, refusing to be dislodged. “What did you do to him?”

Head free from the restraint of Bruce’s hands, and ignoring the nauseating, throbbing pain in his chest, Jason tilted his head up as far as he could manage to try to get a glimpse of what was happening.

His blood ran cold.

It was his body, laying limp and lifeless across his chest like a bad fur rug. His new body. His old body?

“Shit,” he managed to croak out and suddenly Tim and Dick were there, levering the still form off of his chest and tugging Damian away. Bruce’s hand was on Jason’s shoulder, trying to push him back down on the bed, but Jason had to explain. He had to tell them what had happened.

“Shit Damian-“ Jason’s lungs seized, black shadows edged in at the corners of his vision and suddenly he was hitting the bed with a painful thump as Bruce’s face swam blurrily above him.

 

***

 

When he surfaced back into consciousness the room was much quieter. Wherever Damian had been banished to, Jason could no longer hear him, only the steady, insistent beep of a heart monitor and somebody’s quiet breaths.

Fingers pressed against the inside of his arm, warm against his cool flesh, and he flinched, blinking back into awareness. The room was dim but it still seemed too bright against his eyes, too colourful. 

“Jason?” And that wasn’t Bruce’s voice - Leslie Thompkins was leaning over him, one hand on his forehead, the other flashing something bright and blinding into each of his eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

Jason grumbled unintelligibly, jerking his head out of her grip and clamping his eyes shut against the brightness and the nausea that the motion produced.

“You gave us quite a fright.”

“I’m fine,” Jason managed. Leslie had obviously taped his ribs up, he could feel the insistent pressure against his chest, and the pain had lessened considerably. “Where’s Bruce?”

“We’re here Jason,” Bruce said from somewhere very close and then Jason was being swept up off the bed and pressed against his older brother’s chest.

“Don’t ever do that again Jay.”

“Ouch,” was all Jason could manage past the press of Dick’s arms, but he didn’t push him away, even though they were tight enough that Jason was worried that his ribs would be dislodged without Leslie’s bandage keeping them in place. Jason turned his face against Dick’s neck. Something hot and uncomfortable prickled behind his eyes. The smell of him - Jason pressed his face hard enough against Dick that it hurt and tried not to think.

“You’re Ok little wing,” Dick whispered, pressing a hand through Jason’s hair. And that was about all Jason could manage before he had to wriggle free, rubbing a hand aggressively against his face to hide any traitorous tears that might have escaped.

“I’m fine,” he said again, voice rough with disuse. He couldn’t look at Dick or Bruce, at their faces, soft with pity.

“You’ve been in a coma, Jason,” Bruce said. It wasn’t quite his Batman voice but it certainly wasn’t Brucie either. “Do you remember anything?”

Jason did remember. Not everything - the days before his transformation were still a hazy smear, and a lot of his doggy memories were disjointed, frantic. But he remembered enough.

Heat flared in his cheeks. It seemed to throb beneath his skin, crawling over his chest and throat. Even his hands - because Jason was staring resolutely at his hands and _not_ at Bruce or Dick - seemed tinged a rosy pink.

“Jason?” Dick asked. He was still standing very close to him. So close that Jason thought he might be about to clamber into the bed with him. Jason had to forcefully bury the sudden memory of himself doing that exact thing to Dick, and Bruce, and whoever else would take him, sprawling across the bed and whoever was in it with little regard for personal space.

The memory reminded him uncomfortably of the still, shaggy form that had lain across his chest seemingly moments earlier.

“Where’s Damian?” Both Dick and Bruce seemed surprised by the sudden change in topic. “The dog - I need to-“

“They’re in the garden.” Bruce’s hand on his arm, as if he couldn’t help touching him. Both of them were looming over him now, crowding close to the bed, but Jason was used to seeing them towering above him at least.

“They’re burying -“ 

Jason knew what they were burying even before Bruce could say it. He imagined them standing there, Damian on his knees beside the freshly turned earth, Alfred leaning subtly against the shovel, Tim glancing nervously between Damian and the house, anxious to know what he was missing.

“It was me,” Jason said, cutting Bruce off.

“What?” Dick managed.

“The dog. It was me.”

 

***

 

Jason didn’t know what had made him say it. It was information he had been planning to keep to himself - but the thought of Damian grieving over him made something cold and slippery squirm in his chest. Not that the revelation that his beloved family dog had actually been his considerably less beloved brother was likely to comfort Damian - or anyone else for that matter. 

“I don’t understand,” Tim said quietly, bemused. “You were … the dog? The whole time?”

“Yes,” Jason gritted out. “The whole time.”

“But-“ Dick was gaping like a fish, mouth working around empty air. “But - you - you slept on my bed!”

“You played fetch,” Tim added dryly.

“You licked-“

“I know!” Jason interrupted before they could spell out any of the other embarrassing things he had done. Damian and Bruce were conspicuously silent and when Jason glanced over Bruce wasn’t even looking at him, eyes fixed determinedly on the floor. With a pang of - guilt? embarrassment? - Jason thought of Bruce leaning over his body, Bruce’s tears dripping heavily onto his back, and wondered if maybe that was what Bruce was thinking of too.

“Look it was - it was fucked up ok, I get that.” His eyes caught Damian’s and the kid scowled so hard that Jason automatically looked away. “It’s not like I didn’t try to tell you.”

“We’re not angry with you Jason,” Bruce said then. And that was a lie because Damian was definitely angry with him, and, Jesus, Jason could feel all of the goodwill and affection he had gained for them slowly draining out of him with every word. With all his time as a dog he had forgotten how much hard work they were.

“I know,” Jason muttered, even though maybe he didn’t. 

“Do you remember how it happened?” Bruce asked. Now they were on safer ground. Glancing up, Jason found that Bruce had managed to look at him now, meeting his gaze with curious intensity. 

“No.” Jason couldn’t help but feel he was disappointing Bruce and felt a familiar flare of anger at himself for even caring. The anxious desire to please Bruce welled in his chest, so strong he thought he might whine with it, and Jason wasn’t sure if this was a hold-over from his time as a dog or if this was some hidden personality trait that had been a part of him the whole time. Neither option particularly appealed to him.

“The last thing I remember is lying down in my safe house before we were supposed to meet at the docks.” Dick winced. Jason remembered him back-lit against the dull Gotham gloom.

“Then you were a dog?”

“Yes Tim, then I was a dog.”

“Do you-“ Dick paused and his eyes flickered, embarrassed. “You remember being the dog then?”

Jason squirmed. “Not all of it,” he muttered, his own eyes resolutely on the blanket.

“But-“

“I think-“ and Alfred’s voice, as ever, was a welcome relief, “that we should leave the questions for tomorrow. Master Jason still needs to rest.” 

Someone made a noise of disagreement but the butler had already bustled forward, shielding Jason from view and gently nudging Dick, who was still standing far too close, out of the way. Jason shut his eyes, suddenly overwhelmingly tired, and let himself slip back against the pillows. Alfred’s gentle hands pulled the quilt up around Jason’s shoulders and smoothed it carefully down, tucking the edges beneath his arms as he had done when Jason was small. 

There was the soft sound of retreating footsteps. Risking a glance, Jason was relieved to find the others had left. Only Alfred remained, still fussing with the covers.

“Thanks Alf,” Jason managed before his throat closed around the words.

Alfred smoothed his bangs back against his skull, palm warm and soft against Jason’s skin. “Just rest Master Jason,” he said gently. 

So Jason did.

 

***

 

It had been a battle to get Batman to agree to let him on patrol with them. Not that Jason needed permission - he was a big boy after all and his ribs were all healed and everything. But Oracle had supposedly found some significant lead and Batman was determined to follow up on it and Jason wasn’t about to let them catch the fucker who had done this to him without him.

Not that he hadn’t had to make some compromises.

“No guns,” Bruce said for the hundredth time - although the effect was considerably more impressive with the cowl and cloak on at least. Jason still rolled his eyes though, even knowing that Bruce couldn’t see it beneath the flat white lenses of his domino mask.

Bruce seemed to know what he was doing regardless.

“I mean it Hood.”

“I know B. No guns. Got it.” Jason twirled a batarang around one gloved finger as if to prove the point. Honestly, it wasn’t like you couldn’t do serious damage with these things anyway. Jason had sliced a few jugulars with them before. At the time he had thought it was ironic.

Now he just felt a sick sort of guilt. Everything he had done - and they still hadn’t left Jason to rot like he deserved. Jason slipped the Batarang into his belt, felt the sharp point of it against his fingers even through the padding. Suddenly he didn’t want to look at it anymore.

Batman watched the batarang disappear. “No killing at all,” he amended and Jason felt even sicker.

“Jay isn’t going to kill anyone.” Two gloved hands landed lightly on Jason’s shoulders and he managed not to flinch at the sudden contact. “We’ve trusted him on plenty of missions before.” 

Ok, that wasn’t strictly true. They had worked with him sure, but trusted him? And Jason had hardly earned any trust anyway - he had killed people on missions with the bats before. Not that he was going to point that out.

It was impossible to read Batman’s expression behind the cowl but his head tilted a little in what could have been concession.

“I know,” he said, surprisingly gentle, even though he must have known as well as Jason that his previous missions hadn’t been as clean as Dick was making out. “But this attack was more personal than usual.” As if Jason didn’t take nearly everything personally.

Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes again. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, B, it’s not going to happen.”

Batman nodded although Jason doubted he was convinced. Dick made a pleased sound and his hand came up off Jason’s shoulder to ruffle affectionately through his hair. Jason leant into the sensation. Dick’s fingers always felt nice against his skull. For a moment Dick scratched at him obligingly, before Jason jerked away, mortified.

Dick pulled his hands back just as quickly, palms up and open in surrender. Blood rushed up Jason’s chest and throat, crawled across his face and stained his cheeks with angry spots of heat. Everyone was staring and Jason yanked his helmet roughly into place before anyone could see his embarrassment.

“Let’s just get on with it,” Jason said although it came out a little too close to a growl for his comfort.

Tim gave him a look - or Jason thought he did, it was hard to tell through his red robin cowl - but Jason ignored him with practiced ease.

Already he felt better, face safely ensconced within his mask - and it was _his_ face he reminded himself with pleasure. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed that little bit of equipment. His jacket, too, was a comforting weight across his shoulders, filled with weapons that his newly-opposable thumbs could actually wield.

Even Tim’s calculating look and Damian’s glare against his back couldn’t bother him.

A hand fell on his shoulder and Jason half-turned automatically, ready to shove Dick away this time. Only it wasn’t Dick, it was Batman, and Jason froze beneath the familiar weight.

“No killing,” Batman said _again_.

Jason hadn’t been able to roll his eyes as a dog so maybe it was a good thing that he was getting all this practice in.

 

***

 

It was pretty easy, in the end, to see how Oracle had gotten the lead. The man was hardly being subtle after all. He was calling himself Druid - almost as bad as The Mage Jason thought snidely - and he was draped in some sort of animal fur and not much else.

To be totally fair to the bats’ detective skills he had sequestered himself in a nondescript abandoned building at the edge of Gotham and, if Jason’s experience was anything to go by, none of his victims could remember the attack - or tell anyone if they did. 

Still, watching Druid chanting ominously, bare chest glistening in the candlelight beneath an ostentatious fur vest, Jason couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration at the length of time he had had to spend as a dog.

“Are we sure it’s this guy?” Even as quiet as he was Jason could hear the disbelief in Dick’s voice.

“I’m sure,” Oracle said, voice crackling over the comms.

Jason could just picture the look on Tim’s face. “That guy managed to get the drop on you Hood?”

Jason wasn’t going to dignify that with a reply.

“Let’s just get on with it.”

“Hood-“ 

But Jason was already moving, swinging out of his hiding spot, legs stretched out in front of him so he could land feet-first on Druid’s chest. Or he would have done, if he hadn’t bounced off of an invisible magical barrier like a pinball. 

He landed heavily on his back, the breath whooshing out of him, helmet cracking against the hard concrete floor. Somehow, despite his newly screaming ribs, Jason managed to roll with the momentum, landing in an awkward crouch.

Druid glanced up. There was, for a brief moment, a gratifying look of surprise on his face.

Then he was clenching his fists, raising his arms straight out in front of him. Any trace of surprise was gone as if it had never existed. As if he had known they were coming.

The barrier, previously invisible, rippled ominously. Jason struggled to his feet. Behind the wall of energy Druid’s eyes met his and Jason failed to suppress a shudder. There was something calculating in his face, something sharp, and despite his gaudy clothes he looked - _dangerous_.

Jason couldn’t move.

Something hit him hard and Jason went down again, limp as a rag doll, as something bright and crackling flashed in the space he had just occupied. Jason tried to roll again but couldn’t. Strong arms bracketed his head. Someone’s knees were pressed painfully into his thigh and stomach, sharp points of contact even through the Kevlar.

When Jason blinked Dick materialised above him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dick snarled, face pressed close. 

A whine slipped out of Jason in response and without thinking he stretched up to swipe his tongue apologetically across the vigilante’s chin. An almost physical moment of silence followed.

“Hood-“

“Hood! Nightwing!” Batman’s voice was enough to jolt them both out of the awkward tension but Jason already knew that he hadn’t escaped the conversation with Dick that would eventually come.

For now, Dick was pulling away, not sparing Jason a second glance. Over his shoulder, Jason could see the shapes of the two younger bats darting around the semi-visible dome. Inside, Druid was turning sharply with the movement, shooting those bright sparks, lightning flashes against Jason’s eyes.

“Get clear,” Batman commanded, voice loud and carrying without shouting. Jason couldn’t tell where it had come from. Couldn’t tell where Batman was in the darkness.

Immediately the others leapt back, moving with instinctive obedience. Something inside Jason screamed at him to obey too, but something else was pulling back, rebellious. Jason staggered, stumbling back a half-step, his body uncoordinated and feeling out of control. 

Seconds later the room exploded around him.

The force of it knocked Jason off his feet for the third time, and really, he was never going to live down a performance this terrible - he could probably have fought better as a dog. 

There was a concussive blow against his head and chest, heat against his face as his helmet was ripped off. Jason twisted, landed on his hands, sprung upright, and somehow managed to land on his feet. Smoke billowed around the space where Druid had been, and already Jason was lamenting the loss of his helmet and its filtration system. He pressed an arm across his face, breathing in the heavy smell of leather and squinting against the smoke.

The others had clearly recovered already. Jason could see them, just, dark figures flitting in and out of the lighter gloom. Druid was in the centre, clearly unbothered by the explosion, bright flashes sparking around him like lightning in a thunderstorm.

Batman was grappling with him - a huge, dense shadow. For a wild moment Jason was sure that Druid had worked his spell, that Batman had really turned into some dark, winged beast, before a shout broke the spell..

“Hood,” Nightwing cried, and Jason threw himself sideways to avoid the sudden spell.

He rolled, groped for his gun but came up with batarangs instead. Not that he couldn’t work with those. Druid’s hand stretched out again but this time Jason’s batarangs were there to meet him, slicing through pale flesh like butter. Druid cried out, snatching his hand back against his chest, and the spell fizzled into nothingness. Batman half-turned but Jason was already moving, ready to press the advantage.

The others were moving too. Druid spun, surrounded, and his undamaged arm shot out towards Tim, energy crackling at the tips of his fingers. Jason acted seemingly without thinking. He lunged. Automatically he reached for his gun again but it still wasn’t there.

His teeth sank into the outstretched arm.

Jason tasted leather and gunpowder even though Druid’s arms were bare. They crashed to the ground together, Jason’s not inconsiderable bulk pinning the smaller man beneath him, and Jason wrenched his head to the side, mouth still clamped around flesh. Even with his blunt human teeth he tasted blood.

Druid cried out. Energy sparked through Jason’s teeth, up through his jaw into his brain, fizzing painfully behind his eyes. His jaw flexed convulsively, out of his control, and more blood bloomed across his tongue.

The Druid snarled something - Jason couldn’t hear it through the pain. More energy, like electricity up his spine, followed by a dull impact against his temple, and Jason’s jaws finally, painfully, fell open.

In the second between Jason releasing his opponent and his body hitting the cold stone beneath him, someone else was suddenly on top of him. Damian. Vaulting over Jason with practiced ease and landing lightly on Druid’s chest even as the man struggled to rise. Tim was just behind him, bo staff already swinging towards the man’s head in a graceful arc.

There was a crack, a solid impact, and Druid went abruptly still.

Tim stood over him, bo staff gripped tight in his hand. He glanced over his shoulder as Jason struggled to his feet and their gaze met. Jason couldn’t read his expression but Tim seemed to abruptly relax, arm falling limp at his side.

“Good job boys,” Batman said, coming up behind Jason, and resting a hand on his leather-clad shoulder. 

Jason tried hard to block out the phantom sensation of a tail wagging at the praise.

 

***

 

“Damian.”

For a moment Jason thought the kid was going to ignore him. He hesitated in the doorway, clearly torn, eyebrows furrowed in a glare. Jason could see his eyes flickering between the counter and the bulk of Jason at the seat behind it. Jason let him deliberate. 

The heady scent of Alfred’s peanut butter cookies filled the kitchen, Damian could probably smell them from the other end of the room. With his newly human nose the smell seemed almost faint to Jason but they tasted as good as ever. He munched pointedly on the cookie in his hand.

Finally, Damian must have decided that the promise of cookies outweighed the threat of having to talk to Jason and stalked into the room.

There was an urge to go to greet him itching in Jason’s feet. A tight, uneasy sensation in his stomach at the unhappy look on Damian’s face. Jason pushed both feelings firmly down where they belonged, and settled for nudging the plate across the counter as Damian got close. The kid snatched one with a scowl.

“You can’t ignore me forever short-stack.”

Damian tutted, spraying crumbs across the counter. Technically, it wasn’t ignoring him so Jason counted it as a win. He waited for the kid to take another cookie, some of the tension easing out of Damian’s shoulders as Jason munched quietly on his own.

“I’m sorry.”

The tension immediately returned.

“Sorry for what?” Damian asked sharply, not looking up from the counter. 

Jason shrugged even though he wouldn’t see it.

“For everything.” He swallowed around a lump of cookie, throat suddenly inexplicably dry. “I know you loved that dog. I didn’t mean to-“

“I wouldn’t if I had known it was you.”

Despite everything, that hurt. Jason swallowed again, convulsively, but the lump wouldn’t be dislodged.

“Damian-“

When Damian finally looked up there were tears in his eyes. Shock trapped the rest of Jason’s words in his throat. Sure, he had seen Damian cry before, but that had been when Jason had been Batdog - when Damian hadn’t known it was him. 

“Thank you,” Damian said suddenly, voice so small that Jason almost didn’t hear him. Maybe he hadn’t because there was no way that the kid had just thanked him, was there?

“For what?” Jason asked, baffled.

“For everything.” And there was a wry smirk on the kid’s face despite the tears. “I did really love Batdog, even if-“

Damian didn’t get to finish. Jason had moved around the counter and wrapped his arms around him before Damian could react. The kid flinched, as of expecting Jason to attack him, but the vigilante just gathered him carefully against his chest, and eventually Damian let his head fall forward to rest against Jason’s broad shoulder.

“Thank you,” Jason said into the boy’s dark hair, echoing Damian’s words back the way Damian had echoed his. 

There wasn’t anything else that he needed to say.


End file.
